Orphans
by Till the fat lady sings
Summary: CopDoc, set in 1930s' London. Lauren and Tamsin have been together their whole life, since being abandoned in front of the orphanage on the same night. What will happen when young, attractive American heiress Bo Dennis comes into town and befriends Lauren?***Again, don't know where this is going, but I'm definitely intrigued! Oh, and summaries suck. Really.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there,**

**So this story wouldn't leave me. Don't know if it works, but I'm very fond of it. Don't know why. Must be all those Peaky Blinders. And the vodka.**

**I would really, really appreciate your thoughts on this one.**

**Thank you for reading!**

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><p>Left jab. Full force, putting her entire body weight behind it. Her opponent loses momentum and she takes advantage, throwing a strong right hook to the side, followed by a knee to the man's groin and a headbutt.<p>

The sickening sound of bones cracking, and the man almost goes down but instead leans against the railing and spits. Blood. She broke his nose. He pants and tries to bring the world back into focus, but the crowd's jeering isn't helping. Tamsin waits patiently, as she always does before the final charge. This man in front of her does not have much fight left in him, she knows it.

"Fockin' cunt, ye fockin' broke me nose," he seethes, finally pulling himself upright. He throws himself at her, handing punches left and right, but none seems to land where it should. She's teasing him, dancing around him without a fucking care in the world. They'd been at it for 20 minutes and he hardly landed any blows, while she pounded on him relentlessly like he was just an inanimate punching bag hanging limply from the ceiling.

He's getting desperate and impatient, which makes it so easy to avoid his blows. Tamsin toys with him for a while, waiting for him to just get too tired to go on and to concede defeat. She didn't want to hurt him any worse than she had to. But they never give up, these stupid men with their stupid inflated egos. She throws another punch that lands squarely on the man's stomach. He automatically bends over to dampen the shock, the perfect opening for her to apply one of her killer uppercuts, but she doesn't. She just stops and pulls back.

The crowd starts booing, they're always out for blood this lot, and she hears Vex yelling at her to go on, to knock out the poor sod and put him out of his misery. "Don't you fucking dare and stop now, Tammy! Knock his fucking teeth out!" he urges her, the thrill of the fight making him yell in a shrilly, almost girly voice.

She turns her head to look at him briefly but before she can complete the movement, her opponent's right fist makes contact with her jaw, sending her tumbling backwards. Typical. Give a man a chance to get out in one piece and he'll fucking let his cock do the thinking and show off. She almost feels sorry for the chap. Before she can get her balance back, the man manages to land a couple of other punches, one to her side and one to her left cheek. The bastard was strong. Well, no matter. She was stronger. And angrier.

He doesn't even see her coming. She rains blow after blow on him, in a rabid mess of punches, jabs, kicks and elbows, while more and more bones crack under her fists. She knows some of these are her knuckles, but she doesn't stop, she keeps hitting until the man's face starts looking like bloody meat gone through the grinder. She's surprised he's still standing really – must be the sheer force of her blows that sends him swinging from side to side, keeping him on his feet. She can hear the crowd's jeering no more, she's not even sure there's anyone left there at all.

It's only when she's pulled back by two or three men that she realizes everybody was still there, just completely silent, shocked and terrified by her rage. They hold her tight and she tries to wrestle herself free from their grip. She roars. Vex steps right in, motioning the men to get her out of the ring. He starts clapping his hands, urging the audience to follow suit and soon enough the crowd begins cheering her name. Her stupid fucking stage name. She wishes she actually had the spikes to go with it.

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><p>"Oh dear Lord, you have been fighting again." Her voice sounds worried, yet stern, like a master gently scolding an apprentice. She always used this tone when she disapproved of something Tamsin had done. "You have got to stop doing this, Thomasina."<p>

"Do not call me that." She takes another gulp of whiskey – something cheap, Irish, that she can't remember how she got. She just remembers noticing her bloodied hand clutched tightly around the bottle. Vex must have put it there. _'To calm your nerves, luv.'_

"Why not? It is your name, after all." Lauren used the name deliberately, knowing perfectly well how upset it got Tamsin. In a way, as petty as it was, this was her revenge. Her way of expressing how disappointed she was.

"It's not my fucking name, Lauren!" she snaps and feels almost instantly sorry, even before she notices the hurt look on the other woman's face. "Please, never call me that," she almost whispers.

Lauren sighs and nods. "Surely there must be another way," she begins.

"Well, there isn't any. We need the money." She points to the wad of 5 pound notes she'd placed on the table when she got home. "If we're ever to get out of this shithole…"

"But why this? I could talk to Mrs. Bradshaw from next door, you know she has found proper employment for many young women in need. You can do something else, Tamsin, something honest and… decent, just not this anymore…"

"Do what exactly?" she feels her anger rising again. "Cleaning rich folks' chamber pots? Being a proper maid dressed in a proper fuckin' uniform, go answer the door, ma'am has called, may I take your coat, sir? And all that rubbish? Or maybe fuckin' waiting on tables, aye, that would be closer to my calling. Let all fuckin' drunks grope me and maybe, just maybe if I don't break their filthy hands they'll give me a nice fat tip, eh?"

Lauren doesn't say anything, she just looks down at the fresh blood stains Tamsin left on the carpet. That's never going to come out.

"This is the only thing I am good at, Lauren. The only thing I was ever good at, I beg you to not ask me to give it up." She takes another swig from the bottle and squints – that fucking whiskey tasted like piss – then lights up a cigarette. Lauren hates the smoke, but Tamsin doesn't care now, she just wants to annoy her even more. Lauren can bloody well take it for all she cares.

Lauren knows Tamsin is right. They've known each other their whole life after all. Ever since they were abandoned on the stairs of the orphanage on the same night and they miraculously, as the nurses put it, survived the German bombs falling over London. Ever since Tamsin was old enough to throw a punch. Ever since she was old enough to defend both of them. To protect Lauren from other children, the staff, and the whole world in general, no matter the consequences.

"Horses," she says simply, abstaining from making any comments on Tamsin's nasty smoking habit. "You know you have a way with horses, perhaps we can find you employment at the stables, there are many breeders outside the city who I'm certain would pay handsomely for your…"

"Right," Tamsin scoffs. "You forget how that turned out the last time?"

Of course she didn't. How could she forget? Tamsin had almost killed a stable boy. A wicked little lad who took great pleasure in torturing the horses, using unnecessary force to make them obey. The first couple of times Tamsin warned him to stop, he just laughed in her face. The third time there was no warning, she just went at him and beat him to a pulp with his own whip. They'd been lucky the owner didn't involve the police. He just allowed the other stable boys to beat her up until there was not much left, and then kicked her out. Lauren remembered everything, the months she'd spent looking after Tamsin when she could hardly get out of bed, attending to her wounds so they wouldn't become infected.

After that, Tamsin did not take any other position that required her to be around horses. She would bring back money or food every evening, but she never said what she did for employment. Lauren never asked. She had meant to, but the look Tamsin had on her face when she got back home on most evenings made her reconsider.

Then one night, Tamsin showed up full of blood and half drunk, but with a happy grin on her face. She had more money in her pockets than they'd seen in months. That had been her first time in the ring and she had won two fights in a row, along with the crowd's admiration. In spite of Lauren's strong disapproval, she continued and soon became a famous name of sorts in the world of underground fights, not only because she was a woman but also because she was practically undefeated.

It wasn't that hard to understand really. She was getting the recognition she deserved, fighting in front of packed audiences and she relished the thrill of upturning everyone's expectations and always being the victor. She would have made a tremendous gladiator, Lauren thought at times. The ring allowed her to vent all the anger inside her, in what was her own, personal way of seeking justice against a world that had wronged her from the moment she first opened her eyes upon it.

No, it's not that she doesn't understand. It's the thought that regardless of Tamsin's prowess, the day will inevitably come when she will fall out of Lady Luck's graces. And Lauren does not even dare imagine what could happen then.

"Fine," she sighs, deciding to drop the argument, as she knows very well she stands no chance of winning this any time soon. "At least let me take a look at your injuries," she says, already moving towards Tamsin to get her to sit down.

"No, 'sfine, I'm all right," Tamsin mumbles, trying to push Lauren away. "I'm fine, really." She tries to sound as convincing as possible, but Lauren is not easily fooled.

"You most certainly do not look fine," Lauren insists. She knows the ritual all too well: Tamsin always refuses her help and does not want to allow her to look at her wounds at first, but eventually she always gives up. "Why do you always have to be such a nuisance? Stay still and let me clean you up, Tamsin. If you're fine, as you claim, it will only take a minute," she grins, already sensing the other woman's determination wavering. "Go on, sit down," she urges.

Tamsin grumbles in protest, but obeys eventually. She sits down, closes her eyes and tries to even her breath, waiting for Lauren's gentle hands on her face. There's a very good reason why she always refuses the help. She is afraid that she'll do something stupid, that if she keeps her eyes open Lauren will know. She is afraid that one day, she will not be able to pretend anymore and will reach out and reveal herself. She's afraid the whole world will come tumbling down if she does.

She doesn't remember when she started feeling this way about Lauren. Maybe she always did. They'd been like sisters their whole life, being thrown together by fate and sticking together through thick and thin, trying to make the best of what they had. Yes, maybe she did always feel this way. It made her feel like she was pining for the forbidden fruit. If there was one thing that had been clear to Tamsin her whole life, it was that Lauren was destined for great things, and she wasn't. So the only thing she could do was keep her safe as long and as far as she could. This was her destiny.

They had been abandoned on the stairs of the orphanage on the same night, and as the universe has a very strange, cruel sense of humor at times, that was one of the few nights the Germans rained fire and brim over London. They survived, both of them, and Tamsin wasn't sure if that was the punchline or if there was more to come.

Tamsin was a bit older, probably around two already when abandoned. Malnourished and dirty, she was covered only with some old rags, with no note or possessions on her other than a small pocket knife with an ivory hilt. She had no name, so one was given to her by one of the doctors: a slimy fellow who'd just finished reading a book on Aramaic culture apparently, and decided to baptize her Thomasina. The twin. The nameless twin. She hated the name and decided for the shorter, more modern version a long time ago. She didn't hate it because of what it meant, but because of who had given it to her – the doctor who had tried to molest Lauren soon after she turned 13. Tamsin, about 15 or 16 at the time and soon to be released, attacked him with a pencil and managed to injure him quite seriously before the guards pulled her away. She was in solitary for a month. Luckily, the orphanage came under new management in the meantime and no criminal charges were pursued against her. The doctor was retired early and the whole incident was overlooked.

The other twin had a proper name and that was Lauren Lewis. The fruit of forbidden love between a noble family's girl and a British soldier, Lauren was abandoned soon after birth, next to a small suitcase with clean clothing, money, a note explaining her story and a storybook by the Brothers Grimm. But in there it didn't matter much who you were. They'd started their new life on the same day and grew up together, inseparable, yet so different. The nurses often wondered how come the two girls had bonded when they had so little in common. Tamsin was wild and fierce – most people though she was part Gypsy despite her Nordic appearance. Lauren on the other hand was quiet and polite, always following the rules, and burying herself in her books since a very early age. When apart, each of them stood out, either by attitude or by their overall awkwardness which made it very difficult for them to fit in, but when they were together, everything made sense all of a sudden; it was like they were speaking a secret language only they knew and understood, shutting out the rest of the world.

And things were pretty much the same between them even now, more than 20 years later. And in all this time, they'd never had an argument that would last longer than 10 minutes, no matter how fiery. They always found their shared ground pretty quickly and were able to easily move past their differences without any grudge.

"Tamsin," Lauren says, while cleaning the blood off the other woman's face. Her voice sounds calm and reassuring.

"Hmm?" Tamsin hums, eyes still closed.

"I could take on some sewing work. It would not pay much, I know, but it would be better..."

Tamsin cracks one eye open and looks at Lauren. "Absolutely not. You, young lady, are studying to become a doctor. That's more than a job already, so you just do that and let me worry about the finances."

"But, Tamsin, you know they will never allow me to be a doctor. A nurse, certainly, but I shall never get accepted as a doctor." There is so much sadness in her voice that Tamsin barely stops herself from wrapping her arms around her to offer comfort.

"You will, I'm sure of it. You're too good at this to be only a nurse, Doctor Lewis," she smiles.

"Oh stop it, you think too highly of me," Lauren retorts, playfully slapping Tamsin's knee. Tamsin is pretty sure her heart just stopped, so she takes a while to compose herself before she replies.

"I do not, little mouse. You are the most amazing being I know and will probably ever know. If anything, I don't think highly enough of you," she says, eyes shut tightly because she's sure they'd betray her if she kept them open.

Lauren remains silent, not sure how to react. She sighs and decides to change the subject. "These are some nasty cuts, Tamsin. Why on earth did they let the fight go on for so long? Why didn't you just give up?"

Tamsin scoffs. "And break my lucky winning streak? Nah... I managed it. You should have seen the other guy," she grins. She feels awful about the lie, but she'd be damned in hell if she's going to tell Lauren she got into a street fight.

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><p>She was half drunk already, bottle of whiskey still in hand, trying to steady herself enough to be able to walk home. Vex hadn't allowed her to go through another fight after nearly killing her opponent, despite her protests. "Is he still alive," she asked once she'd cooled down enough to show signs of rational thought.<p>

"Aye, don't you worry your pretty little 'ead with that nonsense. He's gonna be peachy, he is," Vex smiled reassuringly, but she knew he was lying. As she was dragged away from the ring, she noticed the man on the floor barely had a face left anymore. And she'd done that to him. "Here, take this," Vex shoved some notes in her hand, and the bottle of whiskey she was still drinking from. "To calm your nerves, luv. Next week will be better, you'll see. You just head on home and sleep it off, alright?"

So she left, or rather staggered out of the old warehouse, leaving behind the maddening cheers and cries of exhilaration caused by the new meat punching show staged for the crowd's pleasure and delirium.

"Beastly little pricks," she mumbled on and on, letting her feet carry her where they would, and stopping now and then to take another gulp from the already half empty bottle. Eventually she stumbled to a halt and leaned against a lamp post, trying to figure out her location. She was almost out of the whore district, she noticed, so she still had about 20-30 minutes left to walk. There weren't a lot of people walking around this part of the town this late at night, only two sullen looking women who were probably trying to get one more paying customer before calling it a night. She considered giving them the money she'd just won but snapped out of it pretty quickly, remembering how bloody expensive all of those medical books for Lauren were. "Sorry, ladies, maybe next time," she whispered, ready to restart her journey home.

"Oi," the shout tore through the silence like a heavy bell dropped on a crystal plate. Tamsin stopped but didn't turn around just yet.

"Oi, you boy over there! Mind sharing that bottle with a couple of thirsty mates?"

She turned slowly, clutching the whiskey bottle even tighter. There were three of them – the source of the voice was most likely the man in the middle, a tall, bulky fellow carrying a club. The other two did not have any weapons, or at least none in the open.

"As a matter of fact, I do mind. Mate," she added after a brief pause in which she carefully measured her opponent for dramatic effect.

The group's leader and one of the other two started laughing loudly and menacingly. The third one remained silent and was watching her closely, a brief flash of recognition washing over his face. Out of the corner of her eye, Tamsin saw the two harlots hurrying back inside.

"Oooh, hooo," the tall man was laughing so hard he had bended over, left hand clutched over his stomach. "Would ya look at that? Can't believe me fuckin' eyes, lads! Now you really made me thirsty, girlie. Hand over that bottle and piss the fuck off before I change me mind and ask for a little somethin' else," he grinned maliciously.

"I have a better proposal for ye lads," she shouted back in the most threatening, arrogant tone she could muster. "Why don't you and your mates turn around nicely and just go your merry way? Before I change me mind and tear you to fuckin' pieces, eh?"

The man stopped laughing for a second, surprised and a bit confused. He obviously didn't expect that response. "'Sthat so, little girl?" He started laughing again. "Well, I'd like to see ya try."

"Mickey, just leave it, mate, it's not worth it," the third man finally spoke. There was a hint of fear in his voice, Tamsin noticed.

"What? Are you fuckin with me?" the group leader turned his head to the man who'd just spoken. "And miss out on the evening's entertainment?"

"Don't you fuckin' know who this is, Mickey? It's the bloody Iron Maiden, undefeated champion of the slum fights, never been taken down, never! Listen to me, Mickey, let's just drop it. Look, there's a brothel across the street, we can go there and drink and fuck and drink some more, alright?"

"Better listen to your friend there, Mickey," she offered helpfully. She didn't want to fight, not really, but she was ready if it came to it. She just wanted to get home and watch Lauren study and that lovely way her brow creased when trying to solve a particularly challenging problem.

"You must be fuckin' joking, you fuckin' coward. This little girl, a fighter? I can take her with one hand tied behind my back." The dumb brute was not going to give up. Tamsin sighed and placed the bottle of whiskey gently next to the lamp post, then started rolling her sleeves very slowly.

"She cannae take on all of us," the other man, who had laughed alongside Mickey, said in a thick Scottish accent. "Don't be a feckin pussy, Paulie."

Paulie lowered his eyes and shrugged. "Count me out."

"Fine, I don't fuckin need you to whip this little girl's arse anyway," Mickey seethed and came at her, club swinging. Although her reflexes were dampened by the alcohol and the weariness seeping through her veins, she was still a hell of a lot faster than her opponent. While he was swinging her club at her, she easily landed a couple of blows on the man's right side and chest, and just as he was preparing to hit her back, she threw a heavy punch in his face, once again feeling bones crack under her fist.

Mickey dropped the club, tried to take a couple of steps but faltered, and eventually collapsed on the ground. He tried to get up and Tamsin moved immediately to deliver a decisive blow, but the other man, the Scot, was already on her, punching and kicking with all his might. She tried to shield herself but couldn't stop all the blows. Mickey had got up in the meantime and managed to hit her hard over the back with his club, bringing her down. They kicked her relentlessly, cursing out loudly, until Tamsin finally decided she'd had enough. Her retaliation was swift and brutal, and when she finished, both men were down on the ground, bloodied, bruised and with several ribs broken.

She stood above them, keeping her eyes on them until she was sure they weren't a threat anymore, and then finally walked back to the lamp post to recover her whisky. She took a long gulp, unaware of how her blood was already making its way into the bottle, forming thin, elegant swirls of red in the amber liquid.

Paulie was still there, his eyes darting from her to his fallen mates, not knowing whether to speak or move. She looked at him and smiled reassuringly. "Make sure you get the poor sods home safe." Paulie smiled back and tipped his hat.

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><p>"Stay still, just a couple more and we're done," Lauren warns her when she has had enough of Tamsin's fidgeting in the chair. "I'll need to check your chest and abdomen as well, to make sure there's no unnatural bruising or any signs of internal bleeding."<p>

"I'm fine, Lauren, no need," she says desperately. The prospect of having Lauren's hands on her torso is scaring the hell out of her.

"Tamsin, just for once, can you please let me do this? Why on earth am I studying medicine if I can't help the people I love?" Lauren sounds mildly annoyed, so Tamsin just nods and starts unbuttoning her shirt, eyes still closed. She knows what Lauren means by 'people I love,' but her heart still stops for a second when hearing the words.

"Enough about me. How was your day?" she asks, determined to change the subject as quickly as possible.

"Oh, you know," Lauren replies after a long pause. "The usual. I went to class and then to the library to catch up on my reading." She pauses again. "Oh and I made a new friend, I must say, quite a remarkable woman. I don't believe I've ever met anyone like her."

Tamsin feels her heart sag, but does her best to ignore it. "Oh really?" she asks, casually.

"Yes, she's really quite something. American, well actually born here in London, but raised in New York. She came back to visit her family. She told me about what it's like over there and Tamsin, really, I still can't believe it, it sounds like a wonderful place!"

"A Yank, eh?" Tamsin finally asks, an unknown feeling punching her in the guts for the first time. This is what jealousy feels like but she doesn't know it yet.

"I know! How unusual…" Lauren replies dreamily. "Oh, Tamsin, I'm sure you'd like her a lot! She's invited me over for tea the day after tomorrow, says she finds it commendable that I want to be a doctor, and she'd like us to be friends and…"

"And what is this wonder Yank's name, if I may ask?" Tamsin feels the need to cut in and stop Lauren's gushing over her new acquaintance.

"Ysabeau Dennis. But everybody calls her Bo."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you, guys, for all your reviews, follows, favorites and just in general for your support. I totally love you. Yup.**

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><p>What a stupid fucking name. It's ridiculous. It's fucking cattle name. You name your cow Bo, or your favourite ox. What person in their right mind would like, no, would ask to be called that? It's fucking stupid.<p>

She hadn't even realized she had said the last bit out loud. "Oi, sweetheart, how about less talking, more punching?" Vex nudges her from outside the ring.

She's moving in circles around her opponent, easily avoiding his punches, but not even trying to hit back. The crowd is getting bored, they didn't pay a hefty entrance fee to watch a tall, blonde girl doing the fucking polka, they came to see the fierce Iron Maiden smashing people's heads in. "C'mon already," she hears Vex shouting, a sentiment echoed by many other voices in the stands.

She takes a deep breath and without even bothering with strategy and tactics, she launches herself at the other fighter and takes him down with three well-coordinated and well placed blows. The crowd starts cheering, but she doesn't wait for the victory to be called, she darts out of the ring and into the back room, slamming the door shut behind her. Vex follows her a few seconds later. He's wearing a fancy brown suit, with new, shiny shoes and a walking stick, she notices.

She can't remember exactly when along the way she picked him up, he was just there one day, collecting bets, helping her in the ring, advising her who to fight. The self-declared impresario was actually called Victor and was born into nobility – the only son of an earl no less, who had been disowned at the tender age of 17 due to his shady connections and the fact that instead of taking employment and making a living and a name for himself, young Victor had stolen the family's silverware on several separate occasions and then lost it all at the tracks.

Despite his pompousness and many flaws of character, he was a good man and Tamsin discovered she liked having him around. They'd even grown into a friendship of sorts. It probably helped that he was cashing 35 per cent of her winnings in what he described as "management costs." She didn't mind though, having somebody in her corner during the fights mattered more than the money.

"Luv, what was that back there? You a'right?" Vex asks, handing her a bottle of wine.

"Mind your fuckin' business, will ya?" she scoffs, taking a swig from the bottle and handing it back.

"In case you forget, darling, you are my fuckin' business. So what got you all worked up, eh?"

She sighs and rolls her eyes and she wishes she could tell him. About Lauren, about how she feels for Lauren, about that fucking Yank. But she can't. He can't know.

"'Snothing, I just don't feel well, must be coming down with a cold or something."

He stares at her for a while, and he knows that she's lying, and she knows he knows, but neither of them says anything. He hands her the bottle again.

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><p>Tamsin's had enough of this Bo to last her a lifetime. In the past week, that's all that Lauren's been talking about. For fuck's sake, Tamsin knows the girl's date of birth, her shoe size, her favourite food and book, how she met Charlie Chaplin at a party in New York, how she stands to inherit a fuckin' fortune after her grandparents pass away.<p>

When she goes home in the evening and they're having supper, Lauren talks excitedly about what she and Bo did, or what Bo said and how remarkable it was. They had only met twice in the last week – once for tea and once for lunch, but their outings have apparently left quite an impression on Lauren. Tamsin has never seen her like this before so she worries. She worries that Lauren will lose sight of the bigger picture and will allow herself to fall under the American girl's spell, forgetting all about her medical studies and her purpose. Forgetting about Tamsin. She doesn't say anything because it's not her place. She just waits, patiently, ready to intervene should it become necessary.

"Where does this… Bo live?" she asks, while looking for a clean shirt after Lauren finishes disinfecting and bandaging her wounds.

"Up in Mayfair, Grosvenor Square," Lauren replies simply. "I have the house number, too."

"You fuckin' jokin', right?" Tamsin blurts out. But Lauren looks as serious as ever. "Fuck, that's where all those uptight filthy rich bastards live, Lauren!"

"What are you trying to say, Tamsin? That I'm not good enough, that we're not good enough for them?" Lauren's voice is trembling with fury, and Tamsin doesn't understand why she got so upset.

She closes the distance between them in two strides – for once she's grateful their room is so small – and takes Lauren's hands in her own. "Don't you ever think that, little mouse. You're better than any rich fuck in this whole world. I didn't mean anything by it, it's just that I don't trust them…"

Lauren nods and frowns. "Bo is quite different, Tamsin, you'll see. She does not look rich, she does not act rich either. She says it's her American upbringing, and that money doesn't make who you are."

Once again, Tamsin cringes inside. Lauren's words make her angry – it sounds just like what any rich fucking brat would say. Money doesn't make who you are when you have it, that much is for sure. When you don't though, that's a whole different matter.

She doesn't say anything though. Lauren looks strangely happy, but there is also a sadness in her voice that makes Tamsin wonder. She tilts her head and looks at her for a while then makes one of her usual goofy faces to cheer her little mouse up. She keeps it up for a few seconds and Lauren soon gives in and smiles. "You are incorrigible."

"Aye, I think that should be my name. Could very well be, for all we know," she smiles. She realizes she's still holding Lauren's hands and she drops them a little too abruptly. "I 'ave an idea. What do you say the two of us go scout the place tomorrow morning? Just see what kind of house it is, make sure you know how to get there and such. We wouldn't want you to arrive late for tea now, would we?"

Lauren's expression is one of doubt. "I am not sure this is such a good idea, Tamsin. What if we get seen?"

"So what if we do? We'd be two people walkin' down the street like regular folks. Nothin' wrong with that. Besides, I've always wanted to go to Grosvenor Square and watch all those well-off fat sacks going around in their fancy clothes and posh automobiles. C'mon, it'll be fun," she adds seeing Lauren is still sceptical.

"Fine, I suppose," she eventually agrees.

As it turns out, it was a very bad idea indeed. They don't belong there; that's for sure. As soon as they set foot in the square they're followed by mean, yet curious stares. Everybody's studying them, silently wishing they would just leave already and stop ruining their perfect little world with their presence. They stand out like two huge ink blots on a white sheet of paper.

The house that corresponds to the address Lauren was given is the biggest one on the entire block. They keep a safe distance and study the place, all the people coming and going. Apparently there's no sign of this Bo, because Lauren would have said something. Instead, there is a constant flow of people going in and out of the house, all of them without exception looking better fed, better dressed and generally just better than the two of them.

"Oi, you over there," Tamsin calls a nearby newspaper boy, "com'ere." The boy, he can't be more than 12, and the only one around dressed as poorly as they are, obeys without questions. Tamsin takes out a shilling and hands it to him without a word. His eyes widen in gratitude. "Tha… thank you, ma'am," he stutters excitedly.

She just nods and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Tell me, boy, whose house is this?"

"You honestly don't know?" he scoffs, playing all haughty.

"Don't be a smartass boy, or I'll fu…" She pauses when Lauren clears her throat loudly in warning. "… or I'll give you a beating you'll remember for years, I will," she finishes proudly.

"A'right, a'right, ma'am, was just havin' a little laugh, didn't mean nuthin' by it," he apologizes. "This is ole' man McCorrigan's house," he says and pauses to gauge the effect of his words. Tamsin looks at him puzzled wondering why she should be impressed, but Lauren has already taken a step backwards, wide-eyed. "Fitzpatrick McCorrigan, member of parliament?" the boy asks but the name still doesn't ring any bells. "He's the richest bastard in Parliament, I swear on me ma! Old family, came down here from Scotland 'undreds of years ago, got rich doing all sorts of entrepreneurial activities," he adds smugly, being very careful how he pronounces the last couple of words.

Tamsin nods, pensively. Lauren looks sadder than ever. "I 'eard there's a young girl livin' with the old man now, 'sthat true?" she asks the newspaper boy, who's already getting restless.

"Aye, ma'am, that would be his granddaughter, Bo Dennis. Dennis after her father, see," he adds matter-of-factly, with a bright smile on his face. "She's a real beauty that one, an' she's been awfully nice with the maids an' cooks an' everybody round the house, I hear them talkin' sometimes. She even gave me a couple of shillings the other day!" he says, grinning and stretching out his hand. Tamsin promptly slaps the back of his head and shoos him away.

"Oi, whas that for?" he asks, moving away.

"Don't ever swear on yer ma again, boy, or I'll break yer legs!" she yells after him, smirking.

The smirk gets wiped from her lips as soon as she turns to look at Lauren, who is on the verge of bursting into tears.

"Oh, what on earth was I thinking?" she mutters. "This is no place for the likes of me, what am I even doing here? Let's go, Tamsin, please," she says, turning away.

"Wait a minute, will ya? What's wrong? You said she doesn't care about these things, Lauren!" For a second, she wishes she could just take Lauren out of there, take her to have some nice little breakfast and a cup of coffee at some fancy little bistro, and just do her best to make her feel better. She's better off without this girl, she thinks and tries to convince herself, but she can't. Not when she sees Lauren's expression of utter sadness and despair.

"I can't, Tamsin, how could I go in there and not make a fool out of myself? Look at how they're dressed! Even their cook is wearing a fancier dress than any of mine…"

"Hey, what's with this nonsense? Don't you go comparing yourself with any of those fuckin' pricks in their fancy clothing. You're bloody Dr. Lauren Lewis, a'right? You're better than any of them and don't you ever fuckin' let anybody tell you otherwise!"

Lauren has stopped and is staring at Tamsin, a sad smile still on her face. Eventually she nods and turns to leave again. She looks miserable and Tamsin can't stand this. If there's one thing Tamsin is ready to go to hell and back for, several times, for the rest of her life even, that is seeing Lauren happy.

"Oi, where you going?" she runs after Lauren, who stops and gives her a quizzical look. "We gonna go buy you something fancy to wear, I ain't letting you go dressed like this. You'll embarrass the family," she says smugly and Lauren bursts into laughter.

* * *

><p>"You should tell her," the Chinese girl says slowly, pausing between the words, as if she wants to taste them before letting them out into the world. She breathes in the opium smoke and holds it inside for a while before exhaling.<p>

"I can't," Tamsin says simply. "Ill fuckin' ruin everything if I do."

"Perhaps," the girl replies, rolling her "r". "Or maybe she shares your feelings and she is too afraid to admit it." She puts down the pipe and moves back to bed, lying down next to Tamsin, who is still smoking her cigarette.

"You've no idea what you're talking about, Mei," she scoffs. "She's better than this. She has a bright future ahead, I will not ruin it for her. She's had enough hardship to go through without me piling anymore on top."

She's staring at the stained crimson ceiling, and the strange shadow the yellow dragon carving up on the bedpost is throwing against the red background.

Mei is looking at her intensely, although her vision is already blurry because of the drug. Then in one fluid movement, the girl positions herself on top of Tamsin, intentionally pushing down hard against her pelvis and studying her response.

"Fuck, Mei," Tamsin moans. Then a slick smile appears at the corner of her mouth, as her left hand moves swiftly to the girl's hip, while the other one puts out her smoke.

"I do believe that this is what you are here for, Tami," the Chinese girl says, beginning to ride her slowly, and rubbing her wet sex against Tamsin's.

Mei has always called her Tami because it sounded more Chinese, she said. Tamsin doesn't mind, she's used to being called by different names by now. The Chinese girl is called Mei Hua, which means 'beautiful flower,' as Tamsin found out later on.

"Do all Chinese names mean something?" she asked at the time.

"Only those that matter," came Mei Hua's prompt response.

She is not sure how she feels about Mei. Somewhere deep down she considers the girl the only real friend she has, the only person who knows almost everything about her. It doesn't matter that she has to pay for the girl's company whenever she wants to see her. There's a special kind of fulfilment when opening up to a prostitute, a feeling of satisfaction Tamsin begrudgingly came to accept over the past few months since she's started seeing the Chinese girl more or less regularly.

* * *

><p>It all started, how else, with Vex, who insisted on celebrating one of her most difficult victories at a special place he knew. She followed him reluctantly to a dimly lit pub full of shady characters enjoying one drink too many, and wondered what was so special about that place that they had to walk 3 miles to get there. In the middle of fucking December.<p>

Vex ignored the patrons and led them straight to the back, where he knocked four times on a massive wooden door with a small opening at face level. An old-looking Asian man looked through the opening, staring menacingly, but his expression immediately changed into a wide smile when recognizing Vex.

The door creaked open, revealing a short Chinese man, wearing an elegant tuxedo. Still smiling, the man started speaking his gibberish tongue, urging them to come in.

"Huānyíng, huānyíng, Wēixu Xiānshēng! Qĭng jìn!"

"Fēi cháng gǎn xiè, Zhāng Xiānshēng. Nín hǎo ma?" Vex replied promptly.

"Tài hǎo, xiè xie nín. Péngyou, péngyou shì shéi?" the man asked staring at Tamsin

"A, zhè shì wǒ hén hăo de péngyou, míngzi shì Tamsin. Nĭ zhīdao, Tamsin shì tiĕchŭnǚ a!" Vex grinned back and placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. Tamsin did not understand a word of it but she did figure out that Vex was trying to gain passage for both. So when she heard her name spoken, she just nodded slightly in the direction of the old man.

"Shì a?" the man exclaimed finally, looking satisfied with the explanation. "Please come in, any friend of Mr. Vex is always welcome here," he eventually said in English. He moved aside to let them pass and then pulled the heavy door behind them closed again.

"Fuck, you can speak Chinese?" Tamsin asked once they were inside. "What did you tell him?"

"Aye, luv, was there for a couple of years as a kid, with me family. Amazing country, that is!" he replied merrily, ignoring her other question. "Come, let's get that pretty head of yours a good decent pint of something in honour of today's victory!"

He led her to a table at the back of the room, which was considerably smaller than the main pub, but the clientele was more select as well. These were no ordinary pub goers looking to get drunk on the cheapest ale, Tamsin realized as she looked around. These were people of decent upbringing who were coming here to explore their deepest desires, sexual or of a different nature.

She stared at the patrons for a while until Vex came back with their drinks – a bottle of whiskey and two pints of beer. There were both men and women there, some drinking, some smoking, some kissing other people. There were Asian and Caucasian women and men alike, scantily dressed, walking around the tables, to entertain the guests, and that's when it dawned on Tamsin where they were.

"This a fuckin' whorehouse?" she asked after downing a couple of whiskey glasses and half a beer.

Vex, in a more advanced state of inebriation, grinned back. "I much prefer the term house of ill repute, it has a certain panache, don't you think?" He started laughing and Tamsin joined him, wondering how come she hadn't realized until now what a stupid sounding word 'panache' was.

A young man wearing only a pair of white, tight trousers, stopped right next to their table and without warning leaned in to give Vex a long, passionate kiss. Tamsin was quite embarrassed and averted her gaze. But when the young man tried to kiss her too, she literally squirmed in her seat, doing her best to avoid the boy's lips. She muttered a quick apology and turned her eyes to the whiskey glass, feeling more embarrassed than she had ever remembered feeling.

Vex studied the episode curiously but didn't say a word. He just pulled the boy closer to him and whispered something in his ear, Tamsin was afraid to ask what. All she knew was that she was growing more and more uncomfortable by the second.

The young man hurried off without a word, and Vex stood up and raised his glass to hold a toast. "Oi, you little fucks! May I 'ave your attention? Here's to the fucking Iron Maiden, you honourable skanks! Here's to the fastest, fiercest fighter of all fucking times, the undefeatable Iron Bloody Fucking Maiden!" he shouted, pointing towards her.

"Won't ya sit the fuck down?" she hissed at him. "You're making a fool of yerself. And me!" she added but Vex was ignoring her completely and was still clapping his hands in her honour. Most of the patrons just gave him a curious look and soon returned to their drinks or companions, but some started clapping along to mock him.

She was this close to punching him, when she felt a warm, soft hand on her fist, keeping it gently but firmly in place. "Don't," a voice said and it was one of the most beautiful, melodious voices Tamsin had ever heard. She turned her head and stared into the dark eyes of a Chinese girl, who looked at her intently, a warm smile on her lips. She returned the smile without even realizing, and before she could figure out what was going on, the girl leaned forward and kisses her deeply, slowly forcing her lips apart with her tongue. Tamsin was in shock, and when the girl stopped kissing her she wasn't even sure if what was happening was real or just an alcohol-induced hallucination. "Come with me," the girl said, pulling her gently by the hand. Completely mesmerized, Tamsin followed her, not before noticing Vex looking at them with a strange smile on his face, and nodding in approval.

That was the first time Tamsin was with another woman. The first time she was intimate with anyone else, as a matter of fact. The physical closeness confounded her at first: she was used to physicality in a fight, to the contact of two angry bodies locked in a battle to overcome each other, but she was not used to this.

The girl led her into a smaller room upstairs, the same room she was in now, with stained crimson walls and an imposing bed that looked out of place there, contrasting heavily with the rest of the shabby décor. She sat down on the bed simply because there wasn't any other place to sit – the only chair in the room had a small leather case on it, and Tamsin looked curiously how the girl took out a long pipe, poured some powder inside it and then lit it by the candle on the table. She breathed in the smoke and let it out slowly, allowing it to swirl around her, creating strange dancing shapes in the air. The display was truly hypnotic and Tamsin couldn't take her eyes off it. The girl poured two glasses of whiskey and came to sit on the bed, then took one of Tamsin's hands in hers and ran her fingers gently over the bruised knuckles. "So you are the famous Tiĕchŭnǚ," she smiled. That word again, Tamsin wondered what it meant. "The Iron Maiden," the Chinese girl explained and chuckled. "I always imagined you were… older."

Tamsin swallowed hard and tried to pull her hand away. This was wrong. What the fuck was she doing here? She should have been home already, Lauren would be worried about her, wondering where she was.

"I… I can't," she started and tried to get up, but the girl did not let go that easily.

"Shhhh," she said, putting a finger over Tamsin's lips. "Please stay. It would be a shame if you left. There is so much waste in this world, don't you think? Why waste the little time we have together?" she whispered, while caressing Tamsin's cheek and running her fingers through her messy hair. "I like it," she decided all of a sudden, smiling contentedly. "You have beautiful hair," she added, and for the second time that night, she brought her lips against Tamsin's and kissed her slowly and softly, taking her time, waiting for the other woman to respond.

Tamsin sighed and eventually kissed back, while her hands landed awkwardly on the girl's waist and just remained there, heavy and still. "I'm sorry," she muttered in apology, keeping her eyes closed.

"You worry too much. I don't care who you dream of when I touch you," the Chinese girl replied, moving her hands underneath Tamsin's shirt, gently grazing her skin with her fingernails. Tamsin gasped at the contact and tightened her grip of the girl's waist.

"Close your eyes and imagine this is your woman, touching you where you long to be touched… in the most sacred… and secret parts of your body…" she whispered, while taking off Tamsin's shirt and placing featherweight kisses on every inch of skin she exposed.

"How did..." Tamsin started but was again cut off when the girl kissed her one more time – this time more forcibly, and even biting her lower lip, prodding her to respond.

"Shhhh," she said again, tilting her head backwards and studying Tamsin for a couple of seconds. "We are the unwanted, this is our destiny. Just close your eyes and think I am her," she insisted, and this time Tamsin complied. It was wrong, and the smells and touches were unfamiliar, but she pretended. Whenever she was kissed, she imagined Lauren's beautiful mouth over her own. When her hands touched the warm, soft skin, she imagined it was Lauren's. When her fingers dipped into the other woman's wetness, Tamsin was convinced she was losing her mind, as images of what it would be like to have Lauren writhing under her touch flashed before her eyes.

She almost started crying after she came, her whole body trembling violently. The Chinese girl held her tight, whispering soothing words in her unknown language.

* * *

><p>A loud knock on the door startles both of them. They'd been sitting in silence for a while, passing the bottle of wine from one to another, neither of them actually feeling like talking. The person who knocked doesn't wait to be asked in and practically kicks the door open. It's a very tall man of muscular build, dressed in a sharp suit that somehow makes him look even bigger and more threatening. He's shaved bald and has some strange tattoos on his neck. Tamsin can't help but wonder what it would take to bring such a formidable opponent down in the ring.<p>

"Oi, who the fuck allowed you back' ere," Vex asks angrily, which is quite brave of him, given that he's half the other man's size.

"Please pardon the intrusion," the man speaks in a surprisingly elegant accent. "I needed to discuss with Miss… Lewis here of a matter of the utmost urgency," he said amiably.

"Just Tamsin will do," she replied cautiously. After they left the orphanage, she took Lauren's last name since she didn't have one of her own. "What is this urgent matter that you wish to discuss, if I may ask?" she says, matching the stranger's elegant tone and style of speech. Vex looks at her as if she's grown a second head all of a sudden.

The man looks from her to Vex and back, not sure if he should speak in the presence of another person. Eventually he decides against it and takes out a business card. "My employer should like a word in private, about the possibility of commissioning your services to ensure her family's security. I'm afraid this is all I am at liberty to discuss at the moment. Please be at this address tomorrow at noon," he says, handing the card to Tamsin. The card is in French, the name and address written in gold letters against a creamy white background, with an intricate family crest printed discretely at the top. Evony Fleurette Marquise. Another stuck-up, rich dame who's looking for her next charity case? Yet the man's offer intrigues her, especially the mention of this being a security position.

"Thank you. Please tell your employer that I am quite grateful for the proposition, and I shall call on her at this address tomorrow at noon," she says.

"Very well," the man nods. "Good day," he adds and strolls out of the room.

Vex is still staring at her, mouth agape in surprise.

"Wha'?" she asks.

"What the hell was that?" he practically shouts. "Don't tell me you're actually considering the fuckin' offer!" He sounds desperate and Tamsin wonders what will happen to him if she stops fighting. As resourceful as he is, he's come to rely on her for a steady income over the last few months, just as she's counting on him whenever she's in the ring - that he will stop her from killing the other fighters, that he will stop the other fighters from killing her, if it ever comes to that.

She just shrugs in response to his question, and he doesn't press on. But the truth is she is considering it. For the first time in what feels like eternity, she wonders what it would be like to stop fighting. To stop showing up home bloodied and bruised in the evening. By the time she leaves the warehouse, she has half a mind to take up this Madam Marquise's offer no matter what. Not for her, but for Lauren.

* * *

><p><strong>The Chinese dialogue reads something like this (I might have messed the tones, it's been forever since I wrote any pinyin):<strong>

"Welcome, welcome, Mr. Weixu (Vex). Please come in!"

"Thank you very much, Mr. Zhang. How are you?"

"Very well, thank you. Your friend, who is your friend?"

"Oh, this is my very good friend, her name is Tamsin. You know, Tamsin's the Iron Maiden!"

"Really?"

**My Chinese friends out there, sorry if I ruined your beautiful language.**


	3. Chapter 3

Bo is an orphan too. She speaks about it with such candor and serenity that Lauren is completely swept off her feet. Her way of being is surprisingly refreshing and her attitude towards all things and life in general is down to earth without any of the bitterness and frustrations Lauren is used to.

It must be her upbringing, far from the restrictions of modern-day English society, in a far world that still seems to value non-conformism, or at least that's what Lauren assumes. In truth, America to her is a mysterious land that still has the appeal of a mythological Terra Incognita, as it does to most Europeans. It must be Bo's wealth as well, allowing her to grow up without worries, despite her personal tragedies.

But above all, this attitude is owed to Bo's inherent good nature and determination to make the best of everything, no matter the circumstances.

It's not out of shallowness, the girl is anything but superficial, and at times there is such a fierce intensity in her actions that makes Lauren wonder what is actually lurking behind Bo's dark brown eyes. It's just that she would stop at nothing to convince everybody around her and herself as well, perhaps, that there is good in the world, you just have to want to see it.

When they first met, at the library, Lauren was taken by surprise to discover how easy it was to make friends with the American girl. Unsurprisingly, Bo bypasses social rigors without a care in the world and openly discusses her ideas and feelings, never judging, never afraid of being judged. Her smile is infectious and her passion is compelling, and Lauren finds herself drawn to the girl in a way she doesn't quite comprehend.

Lauren is smart – too smart for her own good, most people would say – but when it comes to her relationship with Bo she feels utterly and completely idiotic. She is confused about her feelings and even more confused about how to react. The only things she is quite certain of is that when she's with Bo she feels a kind of happiness and fulfilment she never experienced before, and when they're apart, the American girl is all she can think of.

She is confused and scared, and desperately in need of someone to talk to. Tamsin is the only one she can talk to, but how can she even bring up the topic without sounding like a complete fool? So instead of opening up to her life-long friend and the only person she can call family, she just gushes like an idiot and talks about every little piss-ant thing she finds out from Bo, carefully avoiding the only thing that really matters: how she feels about the American girl. She is aware that Tamsin knows something is off by the way she reacts. But she knows Tamsin is patient with her and will not poke around, she will be there, ready to listen, when the time comes.

* * *

><p>She arrived for tea 10 minutes earlier, wearing one of the two dresses Tamsin had bought for her the previous day. It was light pink with a floral pattern and she looked astonishing in it, of this she was certain. Tamsin had said as much, perhaps not in so many words. The colors and fabric were bringing out her intense brown eyes and strikingly prominent jawline.<p>

She rang the front door bell with shaky fingers, trying to remember the last time she had been this nervous. Probably never, not even when she sat through her medical school examinations. The butler who opened the door measured her carefully head to toe and finally nodded approvingly.

"Miss… Lauren Lewis, I presume?" he asked finally.

"Yes, that's right. Good afternoon," she responded promptly, trying to sound as educated as possible.

"Do come in, please," he urged her and stepped aside to make room. He led her to a small study and left her there, letting her know in a very official tone that Miss Dennis would be with her momentarily and that tea would be served in 20 minutes.

She looked around the study, which seemed to be filled only with books, notebooks and maps, all of them in varying states of disarray. This was not at all what Lauren had expected. There were a couple of armchairs and a chair next to a small table in the middle of the room, and she sat awkwardly in one of them, right next to a tower of dusty old tomes dangerously at risk of collapsing. There were a few more books on the table, arranged in a neat pile that contrasted with the chaos governing the rest of the room. She looked closer – there were a couple of American history books, poetry collections by Ezra Pound and Walt Whitman, and a huge biology compendium that caught her eye right away. She started reading and soon became so immersed in it that she didn't realize she had been waiting there for half an hour already.

The door opened suddenly, startling her. She looked up and there she was, Bo Dennis, in a rather disheveled state, wearing a white blouse and a pair of dark trousers, dirty and full of dust and cobwebs. She returned the biology book where she found it and moved to greet her host, opening her mouth to speak but not being able to utter a single word before Bo cut in.

"Hi, Lauren, I am so, so terribly sorry to have kept you waiting for so long… I hope you… oh, may I call you Lauren? I'd prefer to call you Lauren, I cannot possibly keep on calling you Miss Lewis now that we've… Excellent, thank you!" she said when Lauren just nodded smiling. "Anyway, I should probably take a deep breath and count to 10, right," Bo chuckled.

"I believe that would be a great idea," Lauren agreed.

"Okay, back from the start then," Bo said after a pause, exhaling slowly. "My apologies for being so late, I was looking for something in the attic and completely lost track of time. I hope you can forgive me," she added sweetly.

"Oh, it's quite all right… Miss… Bo," she corrected herself quickly after the American shot her a disapproving look. "I actually lost track of time myself, reading from that marvelous biology compendium. It's quite interesting and very educational."

"Oh?" Bo looked confused. "Oh, yes right!" she said brightly after looking at the books on the table. "I'm glad you like it. It's yours."

"What? No, I couldn't possibly accept this… this is a very expensive book, Bo, I cannot…"

"Oh, nonsense! It's sitting here in our library unused, it's a shame, really. I want you to have it and use it, maybe it can help with your studies."

Lauren was still hesitant – nobody had ever gifted her something so expensive before and she really doubted she could accept it without feeling indebted.

"Please, Lauren, I'd rather give this to someone who actually needs it. God knows I don't!" Bo chuckled again.

Good Lord, she had the most beautiful smile. Lauren couldn't resist it long and eventually just nodded in acceptance. "Thank you, I cannot even begin to express my gratitude…"

"No need, Lauren, really. The pleasure is all mine. And I want you to have the poetry books and the American history too. These are some of my favorite poets, I'm not sure how familiar you are with them?"

"I've read quite a bit of Mr. Pound's work, actually."

"Wonderful! I hope you'll like these then," Bo smiled again and stopped all of a sudden, taking a closer look at Lauren, as if she was just seeing her for the first time. "And I must say, you look amazing, Lauren, this dress suits you like a dream!" she said eventually, drawing out each word while her eyes roamed the other woman's body.

Lauren felt her ears burning and she knew her cheeks had turned a violent shade of red, the way they always did when she received a compliment. "Oh, this old thing? Thank you, that's very kind of you," she finally managed to say, trying to sound unimpressed and failing miserably.

"I'm just sayin'em like I see'em, ma'am," Bo said, slipping intentionally into a southern drawl to relieve some of the awkwardness of the situation. It worked like a charm, as they both started giggling at the funny accent, and continued until the butler came in to announce that the tea was served.

Bo immediately pulled a straight face and thanked him in a very serious tone, drawing further giggles from Lauren. The butler gave both of them a stern look.

"Miss Dennis, I expect you would want to get changed before tea. I shall tell the maid to keep the pot on for a few more minutes then."

"Oh, no need, Robert, thank you. There would be no point to change now, since I'll go back to the attic afterwards. Please lead the way."

"Very well, Miss," he replied stiffly and walked out, while Lauren and Bo followed him with a large grin on their faces, barely able to contain their giggles.

"What are you doing up there, if I may ask?"

"Oh, I'm not even sure. Looking for any old family photobooks, really. Some of my mom's things, maybe. Maybe you've noticed," she added, drawing an arch in the air with her right hand as if she was presenting a precious museum exhibit, "my grandfather doesn't like to keep any photos around the house, so most of them, if not all, are locked up somewhere in that attic. I just have so very few photos of my parents back home… I would like to see them how they were before the War, before…"

Lauren looked at her inquisitively. "Your parents, are they…" but her voice trailed off before completing the sentence.

"Yes," Bo admitted simply. "Thank you, Robert, that will be all," she added once they entered a spacious room with a massive, packed bookshelf on one side and a large window on the other. The pleasant afternoon light flooded the room, giving Lauren a feeling of warm familiarity and intimacy. Bo didn't talk right away. She waited for the butler to leave and then started pouring the tea. Lauren watched her in fascination, how her brows furrowed as she concentrated on not spilling the tea, how her eyes had turned darker than before, as her thoughts probably traveled back to her childhood and her parents. There was an intense battle raging behind those eyes, Lauren thought noticing the strange shadows twirling on Bo's face in the afternoon light, which was emphasizing every facial expression, every muscle moving and twitching under her skin.

"My father went first," Bo started all of a sudden, and seated herself on the sofa next to Lauren, their thighs almost touching. Lauren could feel the heat of Bo's body radiating on her own skin through all the fabric, and swallowed hard. This was getting ridiculous. She kept silent, watching Bo with an encouraging smile on her face.

"It happened during the War," Bo continued, smiling back. "We never got all the details… all we were told was that his unit got ambushed by the enemy, and that they were hit so hard only a couple of them got out alive. Nobody actually saw him… die, so he was declared missing in action." She made a long pause and sighed, trying to hold back her tears. "The body was never recovered, so you know, I'm not even sure he's actually dead, you know. Somewhere, deep down inside, I've been hoping and I still am, I'm still expecting that he's alive, somewhere in France or Italy or who knows, hoping that he's alive and well, and that I'll see him again. Not that I would recognize him, I was only a baby when he got drafted," she smiled bitterly.

"My mother, well, she was the exact opposite. There was no hope left in her heart. It was very hard for her after he was gone. Eventually it was just too much, she couldn't go on. I was about ten when it happened, she just… she just killed herself with a fistful of sleeping pills. I blamed her for a long time, that she would just leave me like that, that she would selfishly decide to take her own life and leave me all alone… but I understood eventually, I forgave her. She loved him with all her heart, with every fiber of her being. How could she go on when her heart was torn apart, how could anyone survive that and go on? I understand that now."

There were tears in her eyes, Lauren noticed, completely heartbroken. "I was the one who found her," Bo added sincerely and innocently. One tear rolled slowly down her cheek as she lowered her head, landing on Lauren's hand, just as she moved to take Bo's hand in hers and offer comfort. She just wanted to give her a tight hug and tell her everything would be all right. But she couldn't find the courage so they just sat there, holding hands in silence for a long while. The tea was already cold.

"Let me help you look," Lauren said eventually, after carefully weighing each possible response and deciding to move forward with the safest option. "In the attic. Please, that is the least I can do." Bo stared at her for a good long minute before nodding slowly, a large smile spreading across her face.

An hour later, exhausted and full of cobwebs and dust after rummaging through all the old boxes and trunks piled up in the attic, they sat down on the floor, looking at the odd collection before them. There were various old toys that belonged to Bo's mother, some that were even older and quite possibly belonged to her grandfather, the honourable Fitzpatrick McCorrigan. Family photos with McCorrigan and Bo's parents. Even a couple with Bo as a baby. Old notebooks with yellow, wrinkled pages, that Bo believed were her mother's journals as a teenager.

Other people's lives piled up in the middle of a dusty attic. Lauren looked at each and every one of those items and felt her heart sink. It was a strange feeling, seeing other people's family like this. It was almost… indecent, like going through someone's lingerie drawer when they leave the room. Not that Lauren would know what that's like. What she knew was that she was growing more uncomfortable with the situation. Bo's family, as dysfunctional and marred by tragedy as it seemed, was nonetheless a family. Bo at least had people of the same blood, family she knew, a past to help her shape her future, while she never… All she ever had to define herself by were a scribbled note, a storybook, and a crazy adoptive sister…

"Have you ever tried to find your mother?" Bo asked all of a sudden, as if she had read Lauren's mind.

"No, what would be the point?" she scoffed. "It is quite clear she did not want me, so I have absolutely no intention of making a fool of myself by showing up on the doorstep of a woman who probably wanted to erase me from existence but did not have the courage to take a more radical step and terminate the pregnancy, or kill me." She sounded incredibly precise in her choice of words, not pausing even once to catch her breath. Her tone was almost… surgical, were it not for a very faint quiver in her voice; so faint you could miss it if you weren't paying attention.

"That sounds a bit… harsh," Bo said eventually. "You can't know that, Lauren. Maybe she was forced to give you up, maybe she did not want to…"

"Maybe she was forced indeed. But where was she all these years? She never came looking for me, not even once have I heard from her or anything about her. She is the one who has to make amends, not me."

Her tone was adamant, leaving no room for discussion or more questions, and Bo didn't press on. She just nodded and smiled, and gave Lauren a gentle pat on the shoulder. They sat there, in silence, for a while, smiling at each other and speaking about every little thing that crossed their mind, no matter how unimportant. They talked about Lauren's medical studies, her professors and colleagues, but her childhood was not mentioned again. They talked about the weather in New York, about the movies and plays Bo was going to on a regular basis, about how she was practically raised by the nanny, Mrs. Zamora, because her uncle was always busy and never really good with kids, although he really loved her.

"Somebody had to look after the family business there after my parents were gone. My poor uncle, he was never much of a businessman, but he tried, he really did his best to keep the business intact and thriving for when I'd come of age."

"So you are the owner now, you're the one in charge?" Lauren was positively impressed.

"Yes. Well, Hale helps me a lot. Our nanny's son. We practically grew up together. He's like the brother I never had, and we always look after each other," Bo explained, a warm, beautiful smile on her face. Lauren knew that kind of relationship very well. Although one-sided at times, given Tamsin's infuriating habit of refusing help, their relationship seemed quite similar to Bo's and Hale's. Smiling back, she started opening up a bit more about Tamsin and the orphanage, about how they'd been together since they were abandoned. She left out all the details about Tamsin's fighting for a living, and was grateful Bo never asked.

A couple of hours later, Lauren finally left, not before promising she'd be back for lunch in two days and then for tea on Saturday, in order to meet Hale and some of Bo's other friends here in London. Before she walked out the door, the American girl gave her a tight hug, possibly holding her close a little longer than social norms would allow it. Not that Lauren cared about social norms in that moment. Eyes closed, she pressed her cheek against Bo's warm skin and breathed in her perfume – even full of dust and dirt, her hair and skin still had a soft, delicious smell of lavender and honey. She eventually let go, a bit reluctantly, bade Bo farewell, and politely refused the girl's offer to have the chauffeur drop her off. She needed to walk, to clear her head.

She knew the signs, she had read enough books and seen enough movies herself to know what was happening to her. As wrong as it was, she was falling in love with the American girl, and falling fast and hard. What was worse was that Bo seemed to return the affection. Surely this was impossible, though? Surely it was just some sort of infatuation with a person who had shown genuine interest in her, and what they had was nothing more than a close friendship?

She really needed to talk to Tamsin. Tamsin would know what needed to be done.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry it took me a while. This is actually half of what this chapter was supposed to be, but it was getting too long so I cut it in two. What do you think, my friends? I feel like I'm finally doing Bo justice and I don't know what took me so long, because I really like her.<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you. All of you. And I apologize in advance for the racial slurs.**

* * *

><p>She knows the shop and the owner just vaguely, which is fortunate because she really would not stand a chance in hell to pull this off if they knew her. These were good, honest people who were serving decent merchandise at good rates. A real shame it had to be them.<p>

Walking into the small café, her eyes fall immediately on her marks, sitting at a corner table, drinking tea and whiskey and speaking in low tones, almost whispering. Two boys and a girl. They can't be more than 17-18 years old, all of them with sandy blond hair, blue eyes and dressed in solemn green and grey hues. They look so tense, that if you'd pop a balloon behind them they'd jump five feet in the air, Tamsin thinks, with a cocky smirk on her lips.

She ignores the group and heads straight to the counter where she orders a whiskey and beer. The barkeep, who is also the owner of the establishment, gives her a nice smile as he brings over her order. _Fucking great. _

She takes a mouthful of whiskey and rolls it around in her mouth, allowing her taste buds to enjoy the burning sensation. What a shame, this was actually top-shelf stuff, not that tasteless piss most taverns were usually selling for whiskey those days. She sighs, with an imperceptible shrug, and spits out the liquid all over the counter, making as much noise as possible. All eyes in the room turn to her.

"Fuckin' kikes," she growls menacingly and slams the glass against the polished counter.

"Excuse me, Miss?" the owner asks, pretending he hasn't heard the insult.

"I said, you fuckin' Jews, all of you filthy, dirty, cheating bags of shite, every motherfucking last one of you!" She's almost shouting now.

The owner comes closer, hesitantly. "Miss, I think it would be better if you left now," he says politely.

"Don't you fuckin' tell me what to do, you dirty piece of… You call that a drink, huh? What the fuck did you do, piss in it? Cuz it sure tasted a lot like piss, eh? This is downright robbery, this is, charging decent folk good money for that piss you're serving? You filthy goatfucking fuck!"

"Miss, I must insist," the man tries again. Another man who had been sitting in the back, reading a newspaper, comes up to them, probably to lend a hand and force her to leave if she wouldn't see sense and get out herself. He lifts his hand in a reconciliatory gesture, but she just jumps back and continues to shout.

"Get your filthy hands off me, you fuckin' leeches! I hope you and your whole fuckin kind, down to the very last one of you, rot in hell till the end of time, you murderous, double crossing kikes!" _And now, for the grand finale._ "Your good-for-nothing kind fuckin' killed Jesus, how can you even live with yourselves?" she adds, pouring all the contempt she was capable of in those words, then turns on her heels and walks out, slamming the door behind her. Not that she actually gives a fuck about Jesus.

She stops a few yards away from the café and lights up a cigarette, deliberately slow in her actions. Without even looking back, a large grin spreads across her face when she ears the door slammed shut behind her and the sound of footsteps getting close.

"How'd you know?" one of the boys asks. His voice sounds surprisingly mature.

"Know what?" she finally asks after turning around and giving all three of them a good look.

"That he's a Jew."

"Oh?" she feigns ignorance, taking another pull on the cigarette. _It was_ _Vex, he knows everyone._ "I thought everybody knows, mate. That it's just one of those things, ya know?"

All three are eyeing her suspiciously, not sure yet what to make of her little number back in the café. She doesn't want to give them the time to think too much about it, so she just puts on a bright smile and nods at them. "Well, if that'll be all, young gents and miss, I shall be on my way," she says and turns to leave. She takes a couple of steps before she finally hears what she has been waiting for.

"Wait, please." It's the girl's voice this time. "Won't you let us buy you a drink someplace else? Someplace decent. If you can spare a moment, that is."

* * *

><p>Tamsin seldom arrives anywhere on time, but nobody can really hold it against her. Not when she's always armed with the perfect excuse. It's not that she doesn't want to be on time, really, it's just that the universe seems to take an unbelievable amount of pleasure in mucking up her plans and making her be late.<p>

She does arrive at Madam Marquise's on time though. The address on the business card leads her to an old, imposing house in one of the rich districts. The place has the opulence of rich Victorian-era manors. The decorations are in good taste, making Tamsin think that the owner was not one of those social upstarts who had recently stumbled upon a fortune; no, everything about the place screams old money. Or at least the influence of someone born and bred with old money.

She is taken to the back of the house, which faces a large garden with many trees, flowers, a tennis court and a large cobblestoned terrace. Two teenage girls are playing tennis, under the careful watch of the tall, bald man from the other day. He is standing up by the railing, drinking a cup of tea. Behind him, sitting down at a large round table, is a dark haired woman clad in black entirely: elegant black dress, extravagant black hat. The man turns his head and nods at her when she's announced, but the woman doesn't move a single inch.

"Ah, Miss Lewis, so glad you could make it," he says, moving to greet her. Despite his size, he moves with the fluidity and agility of a large wild cat, barely making any noise. Tamsin is impressed.

He extends a large hand and leaves it hanging in the air for a while until she decides to grab it, although a bit reluctantly, and give it a vigorous shake to make up for the awkward moments she kept him waiting.

"Just Tamsin, please," she says eventually. The whole setting is making her feel awkward and out of place.

"Oh, right. My apologies, Tamsin," he replies and smiles. "Please allow me to introduce you to my employer," he adds, leading her to the table. "Madam Marquise," he starts but he stops right away when the woman waves his hand at him dismissively.

"Thank you, Bruce, you may leave us now." She speaks with a faint French accent. As Bruce nods and walks away, the woman turns her head towards Tamsin and measures her carefully, head to toe, for a good few minutes.

"Oh darling, please do take a seat. You're going to give me a most terrible crick in the neck if you keep on standing there," the woman speaks in a surprisingly sharp, commanding voice.

Tamsin complies without a word. She sits down opposite Madam Marquise and continues to study her closely. She finds the woman intimidating – not because of her wealth, her fancy clothes and fancy house. No, there is a certain kind of strength that she projects, making one want to take a second look. You wouldn't think so at the first glance, but this woman, who seems to be in her early 40s, has been through a lot, and she's terribly good at hiding her scars. But Tamsin knows hurt and pain too well to be fooled.

"Why am I here, ma'am?" she asks eventually.

"Oh my, straight to the point, are we? You young generation, always in a rush," Evony shakes her head and tuts. "The art of conversation is entirely lost on you," she goes on after sighing for emphasis. "Most people who call on me at least have the courtesy to at least admire and praise the property. Out of respect, if not for anything else."

"That's very well, ma'am, were it not complete bollocks." Evony raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Aye, your little place 'ere is beautiful, and you know it is already, so you don't really need me sayin it, do you? Me sayin it won't fuckin make it any more beautiful. So why waste precious time when there's more important things to discuss?"

"Ha, c'est vrai, ça," Evony grins widely. "Not to mention drinks to be had," she adds, pointing at the alcohol bottles on the table. "What's your… poison, as the Americans put it."

"Whiskey, dry, and keep it flowing, sweetheart." She is doing her best to act as rudely as possible hoping to get her host to react somehow, to give her something to go on and help her figure out what she's doing here.

But Evony seems entirely unbothered by the crassness. "Oh, my kind of girl, are you?" she says smiling. The smile doesn't seem to reach her eyes though. She pours a glassful of whiskey and pushes it across the table to Tamsin, then fills up her own glass and places the bottle between them.

Tamsin drinks back the whiskey in one gulp and lets out a contented sigh. "Holy fuck, this shite is good!"

"Cut the act, dear."

"Wha'?"

"I know you are doing this on purpose."

"You fuckin know nothing about me."

"As a matter of fact, I _fucking_ do, darling," Evony drops the curse heavily, as if it's weighing more than a trans-Atlantic cruiser. Her French accent becomes more obvious when she's irritated. "I have done my homework on you quite thoroughly, I can assure you. I'm familiar with your background and the kind of education you've received at the orphanage. I know about the girl you're living with and her medical aspirations. I know about the fights and your Asian whore. I know you are doing everything you can to fit in a world where you don't actually belong, and how you are absolutely marvelous at it."

Tamsin keeps silent all throughout the speech, staring at the empty glass in front of her. She wishes she would just up and leave but the last sentence Evony utters makes her reconsider. They stare at each other for a while, eyes locked in a mute confrontation that neither seems to be winning.

She's the first one to break eye contact. "Fair enough," she scoffs, pouring herself another glass of whiskey and taking her time with the drink this time.

"Why am I here, ma'am?" she asks again. "Your man mentioned a security position. As intriguing as it sounds I hope you do know I have no recommendations whatsoever, no references or experience that would make me suitable for such work."

"You mean other than your current… employment? And believe me, after watching you for as long as I have, I can say in earnest that you have plenty of other talents that will come very handy."

"Such as?"

"Being remarkably good at protecting people," she smirks. She has just hit a nerve and she knows it. Tamsin knows it too.

"I'm listening," Tamsin adds after taking another sip of her drink.

"What do you know about the German National Socialist Party?

"The Nazis? Not much, other than the fact they're all a bunch of fuckin wankers, that silly little leader of theirs included." She grins innocently and Evony bursts into laughter.

"Oh, they really don't like to be called that."

"What, wankers?"

"Nazis. They feel the abbreviation is derogatory. As if it chips away at the gravity of their dogma. Their stupid, silly cleansing programme…" she mutters that last sentence to herself.

Tamsin is feeling more uncomfortable than she'd like to admit, as she can't figure out where this is going. Her eyes keep moving from Evony to her whiskey glass to the two girls playing tennis, hoping her host would just get it out already.

"I assume you're familiar with their… thesis?" Evony asks, taking another sip of her drink.

"A bit, yes. About racial purity and all that?"

Evony nods in approval but then doesn't say anything for a long time.

"That's all fine and dandy but if you don't mind me asking, where is this going, ma'am?" Tamsin almost snaps, beginning to lose her patience.

"First of all stop calling me 'ma'am,' it makes me feel… old," Evony says, ending with a shudder.

"No offence, but you are… rather old," Tamsin retorts with her usual cocky grin.

Evony again bursts into a loud, clear laughter. "Oh, I really, really like you. See, you're only confirming my initial suspicion that you are indeed the perfect person for this job."

"Am I now? And what job might that be, exactly?

"Oh, très bien, revenons à nos moutons, alors…" Evony sighs, and produces a pile of identical envelopes from the large leather bag in the chair next to her. She pushes the pile towards Tamsin across the table.

"These Nazis... these wankers, as you so eloquently put it, are a threat to the security and wellbeing of my family. I need you to keep us safe," she says simply, as if she is only asking someone to fetch her the newspaper.

Tamsin hesitates. She looks at the envelopes but doesn't pick them up yet, having a rather distinct feeling that the moment she touches them she would start falling down an endless hole. And the landing is bound to be hard.

"And how would I do that?" she asks eventually.

"Please allow me to start this from the beginning, it will give you a much better sense of what is happening," Madam Marquise says but doesn't give Tamsin longer than a second to nod in agreement before she starts speaking again.

"My husband, God rest his soul, was Jewish. French Jewish. We met, we fell madly in love, as you are bound to do in Paris, we made plans to build a family together. Our marriage, however, was not sanctioned by his family. In fact, my poor husband was the first in his family to marry out of love instead of entering an arranged marriage and being miserable for the rest of his life, like his father and brothers.

"He was disowned and so was I - it turns out my family didn't want me to marry a Jew any more than the Jews wanted him to marry me. It didn't matter how rich his family was, my parents just wouldn't let me, the ignorant fools.

"So we ran away together, we came here, changed our name, and made a life for ourselves. We started everything from scratch but you see, my husband and, dare I say, myself as well, have always had a knack for investing and making a profit. We had a nose for it, as one might say," she touched the tip of her nose as she said that and winked at Tamsin.

"Anyway, as you can imagine, our thriving business and our background brought us quite a number of enemies over the years. It was inevitable, really. People never really liked the Jews much, did they? We've received threats as well, but we've never paid them much mind, you see. They lacked a certain… determination. Unfortunately I have come to change my mind in the meantime."

She pauses here to pour herself another glass of whiskey. Tamsin is already on her third.

"My husband died 8 months ago in what everybody, the authorities included, ruled as a suicide. Ha, as if he ever would have had the courage to take his own life. I knew him all too well, I knew and I know he never would have done that. Nobody listened, I'm afraid, so I had my man Bruce look into it. That was when the new threats started. From the moment I've read the very first one I knew these were real, not just empty words. These are from people who would not hesitate to act on their threats. Feel free to take a look, they're all here, every last one of them," she adds pointing at the pile of envelopes. Tamsin is still not touching it.

"I'm afraid some of them are quite… explicit. The, milder ones call us mongrels and name me a whore for fornicating with a Jew. Some threaten to kill me and my daughters and go on to explain in minute detail the torture we'd be subjected to before we died and how our lifeless bodies would be desecrated. They're quite dreadful," she adds with a shudder.

She pauses again and chuckles bitterly. "Maybe I would have ignored them, as I did with the others before. But one of them explicitly claimed responsibility for my husband's death. It said, and I quote – 'We did the world a favour world when we executed your husband. He screamed your name, bitch, before we put a bullet through his skull. The same fate shall await you and your mongrel spawns.'"

"Jesus fuck," is all that Tamsin can contribute to the conversation. She is outraged, but she's still wondering where this is going.

"Charming, non? Anyway, I had Bruce do a little more digging and he managed to tie the threats to a local faction of the Nazi Party. It is mostly made up of young Brits of German descent, a few Italians and even some English sympathizers. We know where they meet and how often, all their comings and goings, to a certain extent. We've put together files on most of them, that should make it easier when trying to approach them."

"Approach them?"

"Yes, Tamsin. I should like to employ your services to infiltrate this faction and find the person or persons responsible for my husband's death and the threats against my family."

"Hold on a fucking minute. What on earth gives you the idea that I'd be able to get close to these fuckers? How could I possibly convince them that I'm one of theirs? And why would I even want to?"

"Honey, do you honestly want to spend the rest of your life in a fighting ring? How long do you think you'll be able to keep this up? How long until someone comes along and beats you senseless? If you're smart, and I know you are, you should also be sensible and at least consider my offer, after all it is…"

"How much?" Tamsin cuts her off.

Evony smiles and scribbles down something on a piece of paper. She folds it and hands it to Tamsin, waiting patiently until she opens it and reads.

"You're fuckin' jokin'. Is this monthly?

"Weekly."

Tamsin's jaw falls open and for the first time in a long while she finds herself at a loss for words. Her mouth closes and opens repeatedly, as if she's a fish on dry land.

Evony chuckles. "Imagine how many medical books you'd be able to buy for that Lauren girl with this much money."

"A'right. What's the catch though?" she finally asks.

"No catch, darling. But it can be dangerous, I will be honest about that. You have to be very careful, and smarter than them, which I am quite certain shan't be a problem. How's your German, by the way?"

"What German?" Tamsin snickers. "I've learned some back at the orphanage, but I can only remember some of the basics."

"No worries, we shall address that. Once you take up the job" – she pauses here noticing Tamsin's raised eyebrow, "if you should decide to of course," she adds quickly, "you will be getting German lessons while you're looking after my girls, keeping them safe while I'm away."

"I ain't no fuckin nanny."

"Oh, be thankful they're old enough to eat for themselves. I can assure you they will not be any trouble. They're quite well behaved. You'll have fun with them, you'll see."

Tamsin nods, looking at the bottom of her whiskey glass, rolling it around pensively. "You overestimate me. How dangerous are we talking here exactly?"

"Very dangerous, I'm afraid."

"Lethal?"

"Yes."

"More than what I expose myself to in the ring?"

"Considerably more. There's a good chance you'll be executed. But only if you're found."

"Fuck, don't sugarcoat it for my sake!"

Evony chuckles again. "You deserve to know the truth if you are to make an informed decision. You don't have to answer now, you can take 24 hours to consider it, talk it over with your…"

"I'll do it," she decides abruptly and empties her glass in one gulp. Whether she's getting beaten up senseless or killed by Nazis, it doesn't really matter. She's going out anyway, the least she can do is opt for the more profitable option. "Just a couple of things first." She waits until Evony nods in agreement. "I have a friend who might help. He's got a lot of connections all over town, so I might need his help infiltrating this group you're talking about. He's a pain in the arse sometimes but I trust him with my life."

"Certainly, that should not be a problem, if he can be trusted."

Tamsin nods in gratitude. "The other thing is, before I begin, I should very much like to know why me. Surely there are other people more suitable for this assignment? So why me, what do I have that others don't?"

"You mean in addition to your fighting skills and your extraordinary talent of surviving whatever the world is throwing at you? Oh, darling, have you taken a look at yourself in the mirror lately?"

Tamsin just shrugs, feeling confused.

"You, my dear," Evony starts and reaches out across the table to pat Tamsin lightly on her cheek, "are an absolutely perfect specimen of their pure Aryan race. You'll fit right in."

* * *

><p>The first time she sees Bo, it feels like being punched in the gut by an elephant. After visiting Evony and accepting her offer, Tamsin goes to buy the most expensive bottle of wine and chocolate candy she can find. She cannot wait to get home and share the news about the new job – she'd play down the actual risk level, of course, because she really doesn't want to get Lauren more worried than she generally is.<p>

It's almost completely dark outside and she hurries home, but a few blocks before getting there, she notices an expensive black car pulling over and sees Lauren getting off, followed closely by a dark haired girl. To say that the girl is beautiful would be an understatement. Tamsin's got eyes and she can accept that much. She does not like it, but that doesn't make it any less true.

What truly drives her mad is how the Yank keeps touching Lauren. They take their time saying their goodbyes. They talk and laugh, and Lauren looks like she's completely hypnotized by the American girl. Tamsin hides in the shadows and watches Lauren smile as Bo kisses her on the cheek goodbye. That smile feels like a hot rod being driven through her heart. All she wants is to smash the Yank's face in, but she doesn't move a single muscle. She just waits patiently until Bo's car leaves and then starts following Lauren on her way home, keeping a safe distance.

Tamsin realizes Lauren had her American friend drop her off a few blocks from where they live, because she is ashamed of the conditions of the place. Who could blame her, really? That dump was in no way fit for a woman, even less so for a young lady used to clean, sanitized environments where everything was bloody perfect.

She stops across the road from their building, waiting until Lauren goes in. She just stands there, again hiding in the shadows, smoking and thinking. Not sure whether to go up or no, to share the news of her employment with the woman she loves more than anything in the world. The bottle of wine and the candy box are hanging heavily in her bag.


	5. Chapter 5

"Hullo, hullo! Who's ready for the big night, eh?" He struts into the room, a big grin on his face, sharply dressed as always and twirling his cane.

She looks at him with blurry eyes, trying hard to bring him into focus. "Wha' the fuck d'ya even need a cane fo'?" Her speech is slurred, heavy with all the alcohol she's been ingesting for the last 24 hours. She can't even remember when's the last time she had something to eat.

"Oi, are you drunk?" He doesn't need to wait for the answer though, as Tamsin just gives him a stupid smile. "For fuck's sake, darling! How daft are you? You can't go up there like this, what the fuck were you even thinking?"

"Course I can. I'm gonna go up there… and fuckin beat on his stupid mug… and those little cunts will go wild and cheer and clap and… shit," she finishes lamely after she pauses briefly to think of an epic way of ending the sentence and failing. She takes another swig of the bottle of vodka.

"Ya, well, I think you've had enough, luv," he says, visibly worried. "C'mon, you can't go up there in this state, you gonna get yourself killed."

"Won't."

"Sweetheart, give me that, you've had enough," he reaches out and pulls the bottle out of her hand. It takes her a few seconds to process what's happened.

"Oi, give it back!"

"No. Let's get you all sobered up, a'right? Fight's on in 20 minutes, gotta get you on your fucking feet."

"I said give it back."

He ignores her and tries to help her up, but she moves faster than he expected - hell, faster than she expected given how numb all her senses are right now, she grabs him by the throat and pushes him against the wall, holding him there in a steel grip.

"Don't you ever fucking do that again," she growls, staring him in the eye. He lifts up his hands defensively and holds them up until she loosens her grip.

"Fine, no need to get all worked up, you can 'ave it back," he says and hands her back the bottle. She takes another large gulp and lets out a satisfied grunt. "I just don't wanna watch yerself gettin killed," he explains pleadingly.

"'kay," she whispers meekly.

The sudden change in attitude confuses Vex. He pulls up a chair and sits down in front of her, starting to wrap her hands.

"Look, you better be careful with this one, he's a sneaky little bastard. I hear he likes to pretend he's left-handed, and get you to work more on that side, and then bam! deal a blow with his right when you least expect it. Don't know if that's true, but just… be careful, a'right? Keep your eyes on both his sides." She nods eagerly, although she's already forgotten what he said. Her mind, still clouded by alcohol, is elsewhere. Focused on someone else.

"And I also hear he's keen on making a name for himself tonight," Vex goes on, but she can barely hear him, as if he's miles away. "He'll do all he can to bring you down, luv, he's been goin' around telling folks about how he's gonna smash your teeth out and leave you lying in a pool of blood, a'right? And this is his chance, tonight, he won't get another, so he'll give all he's got."

Tamsin nods. She only understood half of what he said, but she feels sorry for how she treated him, for taking out her rage and heartache on him, so she pretends she listened.

He keeps silent for a while, focusing on getting her hands wrapped tightly. "I thought I saw Lauren as I was coming in, she finally agreed to see you fight?" She doesn't answer, she just looks at him and takes another gulp of vodka. He understands though, he always does, the pompous fool. "Look, all I'm saying is, give yourself a proper sendoff. This is your last fight, so you better bloody make it a good one, eh?"

* * *

><p>It's not that she doesn't try. She's pretty sure she isn't doing anything wrong, but they've been in the ring for more than ten minutes already and she only landed one punch so far.<p>

She's barely standing up, unable to focus on the large man in front of her. He's an ugly piece of work, this one. Huge, ferocious and faster than expected, he's already managed to apply a couple of blows so powerful to her ribcage that she almost stopped breathing. She's trying to find her footing, but runs directly into her opponent's right fist. _Pay attention to both sides, you stupid goose._

Her eyes keep turning to the stands, to the dozens of unknown faces in the crowd, all of them contorted in an ugly, fierce expression Tamsin is all too familiar with. She sees it every night while she's fighting, what the smell of blood and the thrill of violence do to the crowd. All of them shouting, all of them wanting more.

Well, almost all. Her gaze finally lands on Lauren, who's in the VIP box, and she does not seem thrilled at all. Wide eyed, hand over her mouth in shock, Lauren meets her eyes, and for a second Tamsin thinks that she may be asking her to stop fighting. But it's all gone, in the blink of an eye, when Lauren looks to her left, and as Tamsin unwillingly follows the trajectory of her gaze she remembers how come they all got here in the first place. The Yankee. Tamsin looks at her briefly, before taking another punch to the face. Bo seems completely transfixed as she sits there quietly next to Lauren. There's a look of both disgust and fascination on her face, as she cannot take her eyes off the ring. She is completely under the spell of the fight and the smell of blood, mixed with sweat and tobacco, that permeates every corner of the old warehouse. The two men who are with them have joined the rest of the crowd in shouting and jeering.

* * *

><p>She waits for a good 30 minutes before deciding. "Fucking pussy," she compliments herself as she starts climbing the stairs, three at a time, convincing herself with every step that everything is fine, that the pressure she's feeling inside her chest since she saw Lauren and Bo getting out of the car is nothing more than her being exhausted. Nothing an excellent glass of wine and a good night's sleep won't cure. <em>Keep lying to yerself, lassie.<em>

She takes a deep breath before going inside, making one final effort to push the memory of Bo touching Lauren out of her mind.

"Evenin' fair lady," she says in a cheery tone.

"Evenin' to you too, me bonny lass," Lauren jests in response, smiling.

Tamsin tries to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

"Here, I got you something," she says coyly, handing Lauren the candy box. She takes out the bottle of wine as well and goes to open it and take out two glasses.

Lauren looks pleasantly surprised. Just for a quick second, until she realizes how much money that cost. "Tamsin, you shouldn't have, really. I appreciate it, but… this must have cost a fortune," she says quietly.

"Nonsense, mouse. Tonight we're celebrating, so we're having the best." Lauren raises an eyebrow questioningly but Tamsin stops her before she can ask for more details by shoving a glass of wine in her hand. "You worry too much, luv. I always said to let me worry about the finances, a'right? You just mind your studies. C'mon, bottoms up!"

Lauren can't not worry. She never knew exactly how Tamsin earned their living, besides fighting. She's worried that one day whatever she does will come back at her and she will end up in jail or worse. Every time she brought the topic up before, Tamsin shut her off quickly, assuring her it was nothing illegal. 'Fine, but don't count on me bailing you out of the Crown's jails when they lock you up,' she distinctly remembers telling Tamsin a while ago during one of their arguments.

But now there is something different on her face, a look of hope and confidence, something she doesn't remember having seen before. There's a beautiful light that radiates from Tamsin's usually frown-heavy green eyes to her facial features, making her glow. It fills Lauren's heart with joy for there are so very few moments, if any, when Tamsin looks this happy.

They drink the wine, eat candy and make small talk about the weather and Lauren's classes. She knows the topic bores Tamsin, so she moves to her colleagues – most of them arrogant young men from well-off families who still consider her beneath them. It hurt like hell at first, but she got used to ignoring them and they slowly stopped making fun of her as well. It must have had to do with the fact she had been top of her class and her teachers' favorite student since the very first year. She had a somewhat amicable relation with most of her colleagues now, which was fortunate because otherwise Tamsin would have broken 'every fucking bone in their puny little bodies' as she had threatened on numerous occasions when Lauren would come back from school hurt and crying.

As they talked, Tamsin was having second thoughts. She was waiting for the right moment to bring up the topic of her new employment, but the moment never seemed to come. Maybe she should wait, maybe she should see how it went before telling Lauren everything she could about Madam Marquise and how much money she would be paid for… keeping the woman's daughters safe.

Little did she know that Lauren was going through exactly the same situation. Trying to find the right moment, having second thoughts about bringing up the topic. But she had promised. She took a deep breath and, taking advantage of a pause in conversation, when a calming silence had settled between them, she just went at it. _Consequences be damned._

"When's your next fight, Tamsin?"

The question catches her off guard. It's actually the last thing she'd expect Lauren to ask, since she usually tries to stay as far away as possible from her… business.

She studies Lauren's face for a few seconds before answering, trying to understand where this was coming from and to anticipate what would come next.

_I thought you didn't want me to fight anymore._

"Umm, sometime next week, I reckon. Why do you want to know?" is what comes out instead, and she throws back the whole glass of wine in one long gulp. She needs something stronger.

Lauren lets out a sigh, and Tamsin realizes in surprise that the other woman is wringing her hands and struggling to speak, something highly uncharacteristic of her. Tamsin can't remember ever seeing Lauren embarrassed in front of her.

"I have a favor to ask, Tamsin, if possible."

_Why does it feel like the world's coming down on top of her all of a sudden? _

"Anything, luv, you know that."

* * *

><p>Her palms were sweating profusely and she felt a faint tremor in her knees whenever she tried standing up, so she eventually resolved to remain seated, at the expense of seeming to be a rather rude guest. Not that Bo cared about any of this. Better like that than risk fainting or Lord knows what else. The image of Bo and the butler trying to pick her up and carry her to a sofa or worse, to the hospital, was worse than any nightmare imaginable.<p>

Surely not worse than meeting the closest friends of the woman you're… fond of, right? Lauren took in a deep breath and turned her gaze to Bo, who was busying herself packing the gifts she had brought her friends from New York. Literally five minutes before their arrival, which seemed so typical of Bo that Lauren was hardly surprised.

When the butler came in to announce Hale and the other guests Bo let out a squeal of joy, while Lauren wished the ground would just crack open and swallow her whole. Why was she this nervous? Why was she so desperate to make a good impression? To gain their approval?

All worry dissipated though as she met them and shook their hands, as it turned out all three of them were quite marvelous people. Hale, in his funny looking top hat that he kept on at all times, to the butler's despair, and only took it off briefly when he was introduced to Lauren, had a way of making everyone feel welcome and turning almost any topic of conversation into a joke, without hurting anybody's feelings in the process. Dyson, the son of a Scottish lord and dear friend of the McCorrigans, was quite the dandy, but although he pretended to be a shallow, good for nothing sod, he was harboring a heart of gold and was the most loyal friend you could ever hope for, as Bo said. They'd known each other since they were little children, before Bo left to America. Ciara, Dyson's fiancé, was soft-spoken and elegant without being intimidating, and she went out of her way to make Lauren feel accepted and a part of their group.

As the hours passed and all five of them talked about virtually any topic conceivable, from American politics to Lauren's studies and Ciara's horse farm, she started feeling more at ease. She smiled and joked, and laughed, not remembering when was the last time she had felt so carefree.

They moved to the study for tea and drinks after lunch, and Lauren tried some liquor from Mr McCorrigan's personal reserves for the first time. The liquid was strong and went to her head as soon as she took the first sip. By the look on everyone else's face, they were experiencing the same sensation. A stupid grin on her lips, Lauren kept her eyes on Bo and how she was moving graciously between her friends, making sure their glasses were filled and they had everything they needed. When Bo reached her, she looked into the American girl's eyes and smiled sweetly. She was feeling more courageous because of the alcohol, and allowed her hand to linger on Bo's one minute too long as the girl handed her a glass of brandy. Bo smiled back, a hint of red coloring her cheeks all of a sudden, then seated herself next to her.

The conversation had steered to more mundane topics in the meantime, such as what one could do in London for fun. Lauren wasn't even sure when and how the topic of underground fights came up, but she jolted out of the reverie of touching Bo when she heard Dyson mention an all too familiar moniker, the Iron Maiden.

"Do you know about her? I hear she's bloody fierce, she'll grab you by the balls and literally wipe the floor with your arse!"

"Nah, get out of here!... Really?"

"I swear, Hale! Apparently she's one eyed, she lost the other in some fight, and has the muscles and strength of a gorilla!"

"Get out of here! I heard some boys talking the other day about this beast, but I thought they were joking. The way they were talking, it sounded like this brute of a woman was raised in the jungle or something. Probably ugly as hell and not a single bone left intact in her whole body… Can you imagine that?"

Bo and Ciara just rolled their eyes, trying to continue their conversation separately and to involve Lauren in it as well. But she couldn't. She wasn't sure if she should say anything, yet the rumors and gossip annoyed her.

"Actually, she's nothing of the kind," she cut in, taking everyone by surprise. Everybody fell silent and looked at her. "She's neither one-eyed nor hideous," Lauren went on, aware that she couldn't stop there.

Dyson gave her a strange look, his mouth still half open as he was preparing to say something.

"You know her?" Hale asked eventually.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. She is my… roommate."

"No way! Really?" Lauren just nodded in confirmation. "That's unbelievable! Why didn't you say something sooner?" Hale asked excitedly.

"You think you could introduce us? I mean… she's a living legend," Dyson inquired, almost sheepishly.

"Maybe take us to one of her fights? Is she really all that people are saying? Undefeated? Invincible?" Hale was so excited that he took off his hat and moved closer to Lauren.

"Oh, I wouldn't know, I've never seen her fight, actually." Lauren was starting to dislike the attention, and the unexpected turn the whole discussion was taking.

"How can you not? You weren't even a wee bit curious? I heard she's bloody amazing, has the longest string of victories in the history of underground fights." Dyson was acting like an enamored schoolgirl.

Lauren felt increasingly awkward and was really starting to regret having said anything in the first place. Bo and Ciara had a reassuring smile on their faces, not sure whether to intervene in the discussion.

"All right, I think that's enough, leave poor Lauren be," Bo eventually cut in.

But Dyson was not going to give up. "Oh, come on, what harm can it do? Seriously, Lauren, do you think you could get us into the next fight? We'd pay, of course. It's just that we've heard so much about her that we would really like to see her fight. Please? Pretty please?"

"I want no part of this," Ciara scoffed. "It's just not right, that poor girl is probably fighting because she wasn't able to find anything else decent in this market, this bloody economy choking us all. You know how privileged we are, right? Most people out there don't even have half, no, what am I talking about, even a quarter of our wealth, and they have to make do, and it is getting increasingly difficult, especially how the government…"

As Ciara got carried away voicing her distrust of the authorities and criticizing their lack of involvement in ensuring jobs and social welfare for all, and Dyson and Hale tried to stop her politely, Bo remained silent, watching Lauren intently. There was a strange glint in her eyes, half of amusement and half of surprise that the sweet medical student would not only know but would be a sister of sorts to the fiercest fighter in town.

Lauren returned the gaze, at a loss for how to react, looking for some sort of opinion or approval in Bo's eyes. The American girl just smiled and reached out to touch her hand in reassurance. Lauren felt her heart stop.

"This is your call, sweetheart," Bo almost whispered close to her ear. "As intriguing as it sounds, if you don't feel right about this, then by all means refuse, all right?"

She nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "All right, I suppose I can give it a try. I shall talk to her to figure out when the next fight is and how to get in." Her voice sounded clear and steady, although her mind was already constructing an elaborate argument to convince herself what a bad idea this was. Hale and Dyson were happy though – one gave her a quick hug, the other patted her on the shoulder and couldn't stop thanking her and grinning stupidly in excitement.

Ciara just rolled her eyes, whispered something along the lines of "bloody idiots" and took another sip of brandy, while Bo kept her eyes on Lauren, a mysterious smile still playing on her lips. The way she was looking at her made Lauren's stomach flutter and her cheeks turn red, so she did her best to avoid looking back.

Bo's smirk grew even wider. "That's great, Lauren, thank you so much," she said eventually, reaching out to touch Lauren again, this time on her knee. "I look forward to seeing this… what was it?... right, Iron Maiden, right, in action."

* * *

><p>Tamsin's heart sinks. She places the glass of wine carefully on the table, keeping her eyes down all the time. She bites down on her tongue, so hard that she tastes blood, to refrain herself form saying something she'd regret later. Something that she would never be able to come back from.<p>

"Right well… I'll have to check with Vex but next Tuesday, 8 o'clock should be right," she hears herself speaking in a strange, distant voice, while inside her head she is screaming. "I'll give you the exact address and time, just remember to tell the boys at the entrance you were invited by me. The Iron Maiden, not Tamsin, alright? They only know me by my stage name."

She finally finds the strength to look up and sees Lauren's facial muscles slowly moving into a warm smile. Her eyes, though, are as sad as always.

"Thank you, Tamsin, that means a lot."

"Don't mention it, mouse, happy to help." She turns her head briskly, hoping she has moved fast enough to hide the tears. She gets up and heads to the back room to change but instead ends up crying her eyes out for the first time in an eternity.

She fucking hates crying. She's raving and raging inside, but if Lauren asked her to fight, she'll fucking do it. No matter what.

* * *

><p>Vex seems to be yelling something at her, but she cannot hear a thing, there's no other noise coming through besides the heavy pounding of her own heart in her ears. She's out of focus, out of patience, out of any desire to keep on fighting.<p>

Her opponent continues to take advantage and is driving her into a corner, raining blow after blow on her.

Maybe this was it. The one time she would lose. The one time she would be crushed. The thought appeals to her, if only for a minute, as she revels in the idea of being rid of the burden she's been carrying for what feels like forever. Not having to worry anymore. Allowing herself to be weak and vulnerable for a change.

In between hits, she sees Lauren averting her gaze, not being able to witness the bloody spectacle anymore. The movement seems to jolt Bo awake of her hypnotic state and the American turns to Lauren right away. Tamsin can see her soothing Lauren, whispering in her ear.

_No. Not today._

Another strong punch to her stomach, and she almost doubles over, but manages to get back upright. Just in time to see Bo wrap an arm around Lauren's shoulders protectively. She tries to take a step forward, but her opponent throws an uppercut that sends her right back into the corner. Her eyes fall on Vex, who has stopped shouting and is looking at her with a mixed expression of worry and compassion.

She looks to where Lauren is seated and notices she has completely hidden her face against Bo's neck, while the Yank is holding both arms around her, mouth close to her ear. Tamsin doesn't know if she's still whispering something in Lauren's ear or kissing her. It doesn't really matter, does it?

Not when rage starts bubbling up inside her like Mount Vesuvius. She can literally hear her blood starting to boil, and her heart pounding louder and louder until it takes over her entire being, setting an unnerving rhythm that pushes new strength through her muscles and veins.

_Not today. Not with Lauren here._

The thought acts like an adrenaline boost, and just as the other fighter is halfway to dealing her a final blow and call victory, she ducks to the left as fast as she can, cutting it closer than she likes, and counterattacks with a vicious punch to the man's ribcage. He's thrown off balance, as the blow and the absence of impact with Tamsin's face leave him hanging strangely in the air for a second before he almost falls face over. He catches himself on the ropes and is back on his feet in no time.

A fast fuckin bastard, this one. But the episode has given her plenty of time to snap out and clear her head. She's ready for him now, and her whole body and posture reflects this new found determination. The crowd senses it too and they start cheering for her and chanting her name rhythmically. Vex is shouting something so loudly that it's indistinguishable.

She spits a mouthful of blood but doesn't bother to wipe any more of it off her face. Without looking towards Lauren or the audience again, she starts counting slowly, her eyes set on her opponent. The man has a wicked grin, as he charges her, still certain of victory. That's his mistake, and Tamsin knows that by the time she reaches 8, he will be struggling to pick himself up from the ground.

_Not today, you sad little fuck._ Whole world be damned, no way she's going out with just a fucking whimper.


End file.
